


The Easier it Looks, the Harder it Hooks

by neevebrody



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-12
Updated: 2010-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neevebrody/pseuds/neevebrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never admit it, but he's not sure he could have made it through the week himself.  So used to Rodney now, his touch, the scent and shelter of his skin, nuzzling into it after sex, Rodney's hands on him…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Easier it Looks, the Harder it Hooks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "abstain" challenge at McSheplets

Both Lorne and Donaldson are off world and his own report from the mission to M3X-449 is overdue, which is why John's alone in his office on a Thursday morning.  He looks up casually as McKay barrels through the door.

"I officially hate you," Rodney says, heading straight for the coffee pot in the corner.  "Just so you know." 

"Hey, Rodney.  It's good to see you too."

"Save it," he grumps, pouring a cup.  It looks like high mileage thirty-weight and John winces as Rodney takes a big gulp.  "This was a bad idea, okay.  I admit it.  There, are you satisfied?"

John turns the page of his golf magazine.  The one he's perusing instead of finishing his report.  "Nope, and you're the one who made the claim, remember?  I just called you on it."  He cuts his eyes over to Rodney, who's pacing in front of his desk. 

"But does it have to be this week?" Rodney whines.  "Can't we make it another time?  Jesus, this week of all weeks.  Employee evaluations are due on top of all the work I've got in the lab and Sam won't let me off the hook on those any more than Elizabeth did."

They share a quick, quiet look.

"Yeah, me either," John says, and then brightens.  "But you should have thought of that before you started shooting your mouth off and besides, we've already started, you've already made it three days," he adds helpfully.

"Yes, yes, I know.  It's just—it's bad enough trying to decipher the new data we found in that technology lab in the east wing, and you're telling me with that _and_ employee evaluations, we're going to have to go the entire week without touching each other?  You're going to say that, now?"  John expects splashes of coffee on his desk any minute the way Rodney's waving his hands around.  "Christ, I don't know half the people working in my department.  Thank God, the personnel files have pictures, not that that helps a lot, but—"

"You said you could do it, Rodney," John says, turning back to his magazine.  "I think the word you used was 'easy,' that it would be _easy_ to go a week without touching." 

"Yes, and as I recall, that statement was made during one of those inane conversations we usually have after one of your rim jobs.  You're seriously going to hold me to something I said after that?"

John grins and shrugs.  "So you're conceding?"

Rodney scrunches his face up and groans, drawing out the "No."  John knows Rodney would rather have Kavanaugh for a roommate than concede when his veracity is on the line.  "But as I just mentioned, maybe I was a little hasty, I mean I'm already jumping out of my skin."

John clears his throat, fighting the urge to chuckle.  "Back off on the caffeine."  He glances at his watch.  "You've only got three days, twelve hours and about forty minutes to go, unless..."

Rodney groans again and stops his pacing right in front of the desk.  "That's the only way?  C'mon, Sheppard, have a heart.  Jesus, I couldn't get up from my desk for like an hour yesterday after your little surprise visit in the lab.  I mean, I could just about cut glass here."

John does snigger at that.  Putting his magazine aside, he glances down at Rodney's crotch, then quickly back up.  He stands up and leans over, close enough so Rodney can smell his aftershave.  "You agreed to the rules, Rodney."

"Well I only agreed because I thought it wouldn't be necessary," he blusters.  "I thought that you—that you wouldn't be able to make it either, so you'd—"

"Give in?" he asks.

"Yes, so?  Aren't you ready to give in yet?"

John shakes his head slowly.  "There's only one way if you want me in the same room.  Otherwise, you can just jerk off by yourself, that's not breaking the rules.  You've got another—" he looks at his watch again.  "—three days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes."  His smile broadens as Rodney stalks out of the office.

~~Ten hours later...

He's looking through his latest batch of comics when the door to his quarters whispers open.  Rodney never bothers with the chimes anymore and now, he walks right up to the bed.

"Okay, you win,"  He shucks out of his jacket.  "I can't stand it and if this is the only way, then fine."

John lays his comic on the bed.  "I think you need to curb some of that enthusiasm, McKay."

"What?" Rodney says, tossing his jacket on the floor.  "Oh, sorry.  What do you want me to do?" 

John sits up a little straighter and nods to the half-sofa next to the bed.  "Sit down."

Rodney reaches for his fly, then asks, "You want these on or off?"  He's already toeing off his shoes.

John stares at Rodney's hands.  "Off," he mutters, and as Rodney pushes pants and boxers past his hips, blood heads straight to John's cock.

He watches as Rodney kicks his pants in the direction of his jacket and sits down.  Rodney's already half-hard.  His naked legs are pale but John thinks of running his hand along the curve and shape of a taut calf or thigh slung over his shoulder, and that fills his cock even more.  He decides not to mention the socks – metaphorical cold feet would be bad enough.

"Lean back," he says.  "Relax.  This is supposed to be fun, you know."

Rodney does and the angle of the little couch pushes his hips forward, lifting Rodney's crotch up right in John's line of sight, an excellent view.  "Fun for you maybe," he says, his voice tight, hands folded in his lap.

It's like cold water in John's face.  "You don't have to, Rodney," he says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.  "Not if you don't--"

"No, no. Sorry, I'm just—well, I'm kind of nervous."

"Nervous?  Jesus, we've been together how long?  Are you…"  He trails off at the pinched look on Rodney's face, realizing that even though he loves Rodney's body and all the wonders that come with it, Rodney might actually be a bit self-conscious.

"It's just—we've never, you know, no one's ever—watched me before.  I don't—"

John's voice softens.  "I really want to—I want to watch you, Rodney."  He presses the heel of his hand against his own growing erection and grins, looking down at his watch.  "And this is the only way you're going to get to come with me for another…" 

"Yes, yes, I get that."  Rodney sighs.

"Rodney?"

"What?"

"Put your hand on your dick.  Now."

Rodney won't look him straight in the eye, but he unclasps his hands, lays one on his thigh and takes hold of his cock with the other.  He strokes the length of it then lets out a little moan.

"That's it, Rodney."  John swallows hard, his pulse already quickening.  "I'll talk you through it, okay?"

Rodney closes his eyes and nods as his hand continues to move slowly, deliberately.

"I want you to get that cock as hard as you've ever been," John says, working his belt loose, opening his own pants.  "And then I want to watch you come for me."

Rodney's moan fades into a soft whimper.  His hand is mesmerizing, holding John's gaze as it glides lazily up and back.

"Yeah… long, slow strokes just like that," John breathes, taking out his own cock.

Rodney slips the other hand across his thigh, but then starts to pull it back.

"Don't."  John's voice has gone raw and needy.  "I want to see what you do."  He'd never admit it, but he's not sure he could have made it through the week himself.  So used to Rodney now, his touch, the scent and shelter of his skin, nuzzling into it after sex, Rodney's hands on him…

John slides his fingers lightly over the head of his dick watching Rodney reach for his sac to caress his balls.  His eyes burn, dry from not blinking, because if he blinks he might miss something and Rodney looks so damn—slutty.

"Take your shirt off," John orders and Rodney pulls it over his head.  "Go on, Rodney, touch yourself, you know you want to.  I want you to."

Slowly, Rodney sweeps his hand up over his stomach, up across his chest to feather over a nipple.  "You know it's not just this," Rodney says, his voice thick and heavy with something John feels all the way to his toes.  "I can't even kiss you."

"I know.  Just think of your hand as my tongue."

Fingertips circle one taut, pebbled nub then the other.  Rodney strokes his cock faster now and John smiles at his tight, breathy moans.  His eyes are still closed and John knows that's to make it easier, but he's not about making this easy.

"Look at me, Rodney."  He knows Rodney hears him, but his only answer is to slide his hand back to his balls and groan.  "I said look at me."

This time Rodney does and immediately loses that nervous look.  Eyes wide, staring first at John's cock, then up to meet his intense gaze.  Those blue eyes darken as something flashes across Rodney's face – something that coils John's stomach into knots.

With Rodney watching him, John twists his grip, squeezing his cock, milking the clear, sticky-sweet fluid from the slit.  Then, running his palm over the head, he brings it to his mouth, licks a wide stripe over it and goes back to his stroking.  "Damn, Rodney, so hot."

"You really like this, don't you?"

John nods.  He tugs the hem of his shirt up over his chest and dips a finger into his mouth.  He circles his own nipple and doesn't hold back his moan.

"Jesus, John."

Then he reaches over to the bedside table, to the second drawer.  He takes out a shiny black dildo and settles back against his pillow.  Holding it in front of him, John licks up the silicone shaft, his eyes still burning into Rodney's.  He wraps his lips around the large head, fisting his cock with short, quick strokes.

"Oh now, fuck, Sheppard, that's just not fair," Rodney groans, but when John starts to lower it... "No, no, don't stop."

Rodney gets up and crosses to the bed.  "Bastard," he mutters, standing there jacking himself right above John. 

John wants to reach out, wants to touch him but he can't, he can't be the one who breaks first and God, watching Rodney has him so fucking hot.  He feels the tingling start at the base of his spine, and then Rodney changes everything.  He pulls his leg up, foot on the bed and leans forward, hand resting on Johnny Cash's thigh, cock inches from John's face, and _oh fuck_.

"Christ, McKay, who's not playing fair now?"

"Just one lick," Rodney teases.  "You could suck both."

John squirms and moans and licks up the ebony silicone again, because he can't lick Rodney.  "Still touching," he grits out and, damn, Rodney has such a beautiful cock, but he thinks twice about saying that out loud.  He's so close John can see the veins pulse, can smell how turned on Rodney is.

Rodney switches hands and brings his right hand up to his mouth.  He slips his middle finger inside and just thinking about where this might be going steels John's dick even more.  He tongues the head of the dildo again and drags his pants down with his boots.

He watches Rodney lick his fingers once more before his hand disappears behind him.  He sees it between Rodney's legs and knows Rodney's fingering his ass.

Rodney's moans fill the room and John pushes back against his pillow, "Fuck yeah, Rodney," he husks, nudging the head of the dildo against his own entrance – not to insert it, he just wants the pressure, just the slightest breach.  "How many fingers?"

"Two," Rodney answers and his eyes haven't left John's.  "Feels good, so good."

"Oh yeah, fuck yourself, Rodney.  That's it, McKay, c'mon, you're so close, I can see it, c'mon… c'mon."

"God, John," Rodney pants.  "You are seriously so hot like this.  Jesus, look at you—you really want it don't you?  So. Fucking. Hot.  Oh God, I—John…"

When Rodney starts with those breathy little noises, John drops the dildo and pulls his shirt higher.  "On me, Rodney, I want it on me."

His orgasm tears through him as Rodney's first hot spurts hit his skin – his chest, his shoulder, an errant drop across his cheek.  Digging his heels into the mattress, John coats his stomach with his own come, shattering through his spasms as Rodney spends himself above him, panting like a racehorse, his forehead caressing the tip of Johnny Cash's boot.

"Sweet Jesus,"  Rodney huffs.  "That was…"

John hums below him, trailing the black dildo up through the spent come and tries to decide if he'd need to move for any reason at all in the next twenty-four hours or so.

"So, we doing this again tomorrow night?" Rodney asks, stumbling his way back to collapse on the couch.

The corner of John's mouth quirks slightly.  Yep, if you're gonna break the rules, you gotta know how to play the game... after all, they've still got three days two hours and twenty-two minutes to go.


End file.
